


Perhaps It's Love

by cc_keb



Series: In Another Life [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, In Love, Kisses, Kissing, Love, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sweaters, Temporary Amnesia, molly made the sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cc_keb/pseuds/cc_keb
Summary: Where Draco wakes up in a strange place and Potter is acting clingy, towards him.





	Perhaps It's Love

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you somewhat like this little ficlet. Please let me know! It is a very late #18 prompt.  
> Plus, I just want to take this small space to thank my lovely beta, latenightdiscord!  
> My Tumblr: krecs-vita

    For once in his life, Draco felt calm. The dim moonlight was seeping into the hospital room behind heavy curtains. The chamber was cold and slightly windy, but not enough so that he was frozen. Instead, he felt comforted and slightly warmed. Part of him wanted to sit up and scramble for his wand, yet at the same time, he wanted to stay completely still. As if moving would break the beautiful illusion of peace. The softness of the scene was so distracting he barely noticed just how hazy his mind currently was. But when he did take notice, his heart rate sped up in fear as the reality of his situation overcame him. Where was he, and why was he there? Perhaps everything looked different at night, but Draco had a feeling he would have felt a sense of fear regardless of the time.  
  
    The last thing he remembered, was walking to Potions class. He had a distant memory of feeling anxious, but everything after that was nebulous. By now he was much too worked up to stay still, so instead, he sat up promptly. One of his hands laid flat on the stiff bed, the other against his heaving chest. Malfoy pushed himself up and slid to a standing stance, his legs felt of jelly and his body ached terribly.  
  
    The deafening bang of the door being shoved open rang throughout the chamber. Quickly, Malfoy laid down again and pretended to still be asleep, hoping whoever had come hadn’t caught him up. If the fast taping of muggle trainers running towards him was anything to go by, he guessed he had been much too slow.  
  
    “Draco!”  
      
    Malfoy’s eyes snapped open, his gaze quickly adjusting to face the shamrock-green eyes of Harry Potter. Malfoy held his breath, his brain working to calculate just how bad of a situation he had gotten himself into: it was dark, everyone was asleep and he was alone with Potter.  
    “You little git!” He shouted directly in Draco’s face. Malfoy scowled, preparing to yell right back when he was suddenly pulled into the warm embrace of Potter. What the hell was going on! What anomalous world had he been transported to where Potter thought it was okay to touch him– _to hug him!_  
  
    Hot breath fanned his chest as Potter spoke, “You scared me. Even Ron was starting to get nervous.” The genuine concern in Potter’s voice shook him from deep within. The blond bit his lip nervously as he reached a hand up to awkwardly pat his back. Malfoy was all too aware that this was a dream, it had to be. He knew all too well Potter would never hold him so gently, so tenderly, so carefully. Though, knowing this didn’t stop him from wishing from somewhere within the confines of his heart, that this, was real.  
  
    He swallowed thickly, pushing his emotions down. His voice was raspy as it was not yet accustomed to speaking again and tickled with each breath. Malfoy spoke in a questioning whisper, “I’m sorry?” It was so incredibly out of character for him to apologize, but he was much too shocked to acknowledge such facts. Potter huffed heavily and buried his face into Draco’s shoulder to breath in his natural scent.  
    “Missed you,” Potter sighed happily. Though his words were muffled by Draco’s shirt, they still managed to make Malfoy’s throat collapse from the emotion of it all. He had missed him? Surely not. Malfoy would have been convinced Potter certainly did not know whom he was talking to if he hadn't distantly remembered the raven yelling his actual given name upon entering.  
  
   Draco’s eyes watered, but he bit his tongue and blinked them away quickly. He couldn't remember the last time someone had missed him truly, not politely. A soft ache settled within the pit of his stomach as he tried not to give into the warmth. He clenched his jaw painfully, “I need to use the washroom, Potter.” Potter sat up quickly, his eyes holding oceanic depths of affection that hurt to see. Malfoy didn’t deserve this, this warmth was not his to have. Someone must have doused Potter’s dinner with a love potion of some sort, it was the only logical explanation.  
  
    Frowning, Potter allowed him enough space to stand. Malfoy stood, forcing his legs straight as he desperately tried to ignore their shaking. By the time Malfoy had found the washroom and returned, he was gone. The only evidence of Potter ever really being there was the amazingly soft red sweater he had previously worn. Malfoy closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. His heart ached, he didn’t like this feeling.  


 

**_. . ._ **

 

    

    The next morning Madam Pomfrey entered the room, immediately making her way over to Draco. “Mister Malfoy,” She exclaimed kindly. The two talked back and forth for an hour before she gave him a couple potions, for the light pain and weakness. She then sent him off, telling him it was his choice whether he went to class or to his dormitory. He politely spoke his goodbyes before leaving the hospital wing.

 

    It was mid-October, and the leaves on the grand trees were already turning colours and spiralling down. Upon leaving, Malfoy had slipped the sweater on, the only evidence that he wasn’t completely insane. It was soft and warm and somehow smelt of pastries, yet it was so very red. He had to return it, he decided. He was Draco Malfoy, he didn’t get to wear large red warm sweaters and ponder on the deeper meaning of it all. No, he had to keep his head down and finish his last year with the hopes of being lucky enough to live to twenty-nine years young.

 

    The only sound that could be heard in the large hallway was the sound of Draco’s soft sighs and his shoes gently tapping against the tiles. He began his walk to his dormitory, desperately hoping the halls would be completely empty, so no one could have the chance to see him in Potter’s stupid sweater. Thanks to his utter shit luck, first period had just finished, meaning the hall began to flood with students. Malfoy hid his face as best as he could whilst looking where he was going. Hoping no one would notice, he grasped his wand that had been hooked in the lining of his pants and cast a Notice-Me-Not over himself.

 

    Most of the students hadn't seen him after that, but he knew by the look in Potter’s eyes, which followed him, that he certainly had. Draco cursed under his breath and walked quickly down the hall to his dormitory. He glanced around thrice before whispering the password and slipping to his bed. He opened his trunk and pulled out the standard eighth-year uniform.

 

    Malfoy cast a cleansing charm over himself, cancelling out his previous and quickly pulled out his personal mirror to fix his hair. Grasping his silver brush he ran it through his soft white-blond locks. He patted his hair flat the best he could and tucked the longer pieces behind his ears.

 

    Around the time he finally managed to get ready enough to his standards it was already third period. Draco sped up down the hall to potions class, his robes swaying with his movements. A tanned hand suddenly thrust out of a small alcove and grasped him by his tie, pulling him inside. Malfoy gasped aloud, opening his mouth to cast on his attacker. The very same tanned hand coiled up to clasp Draco’s mouth shut. Potter grinned sheepishly in an apologetic way, “Sorry, love.”

 

   _Love!_ Just what was Potter playing at? Glaring up at his vibrant eyes he tried to shove his hands away. Potter winced, quickly moving them down to his sides and stepping back the best he could in the tight dark corner. Malfoy rubbed his lips sulkily. “What do you want from me, Potter?” He spoke in a heated hushed tone.

 

    “Why are you calling me ‘Potter’ again,” he spoke exhaustively. “Did I do something wrong, Draco?”

 

Malfoy’s mouth dropped open as he blinked rapidly. “I’ve always called you Potter, what are you talking about! What’s wrong with you. We haven’t talked for nearly seven bloody months. I left you and your friends alone, so why are you sneaking around to hug me and talk to me. I don’t get it. Stop messing with me! It’s too cruel, even for you,” he spat out. Potter gazed at him with wide eyes.

 

    “We–we are dating Draco. We have done a hell of a lot more than hugging!”

 

   The two men shared a bittersweet glance before Potter crumbled and grasped Malfoy by his house neutral tie again and kissed him harshly. A soft squeak left Draco’s lips, squished by the rough lips of Potter’s. In between short but regrettably enjoyable kisses, Potter spoke, _“Why don’t you remember?”_ Draco wondered the same thing.

 

    Potter rested his forehead against Draco’s, his eyes closed. “We are going to Madam Pomfrey’s, and you will remember me, remember _us._ ” It seemed as though he was trying to reassure himself more than Malfoy, but Draco hummed. Too deep in his feelings to deny him as Potter grasped his wrist and pulled him to the hospital wing.

 

    “Madam Pomfrey!”

 

    “You can’t just yell,” Malfoy hissed, scowling. “Keep your voice down.” Potter rolled his eyes and dragged him in front of her. Malfoy harshly ripped his wrist from his grasps as Potter talked to her.  “He doesn’t remember anything from the last two months.” She turned to face Draco, narrowing her eyes in a way that reminded him of his mother, scarily enough. Stiffly he nodded, ashamed for not having had mentioned it earlier. Madam Pomfrey shook her wistfully and pulled two vials from her pocket: an altered version of a Restorative Draught and a Memory Potion.

 

    She guided Malfoy to a bed and sat him down, giving him the two potions, gesturing for him to drink. Potter watched wide-eyed as Draco sneered, unscrewing the corks, and drank them both in just under nine seconds. Both watched eagerly as Malfoy closed his eyes tightly. Suddenly, Malfoy’s eyes snapped open, desperate to see his lover’s handsome face.

 

     **_“Harry!”_ ** he gasped. Memories from the past two months rushed back to him. In a matter of five minutes, he felt so many emotions and had seen so much. He remembered cornering Harry, yelling at him, then crying and being held. He remembered following him, being followed and apologizing profusely. He remembered being upset, and losing his footing, and slipping down a flight of particularly tall stairs. And he remembered feeling anger, confusion, lust and finally _love._ It was so incredibly overwhelming that he, himself, felt a tear slip from under his perfectly steel eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Eyes shut tight as Madam Pomfrey nodded to Harry and left the room.

 

    “It’s alright love.” Harry encircled him in his arms again. He smelt like home. “It’s all okay,” he repeated, great relief evident in his features and tone. “Love you,” Draco mumbled into his neck. “I love you too,” Harry breathed.

 

    And for a minute, or perhaps much longer, all was well.

  


**_(#3 2018/09/24)_ **


End file.
